Unclear Warnings
by Antigone1
Summary: FINISHED -- Obi is having nightmares predicting the outcome of seemingly routine mission, but they nightmares aren’t clear enough for him to interpret the warnings they give him... Torture warning folks (Obi-Wan)
1. What dreams may come...

Heyya~  
It's my first serious attempt at a SW's fic, so give me all you've got. Any criticism welcome, I wanna know how I can improve! Thanx all who read this, hope it isn't too painful =)  
  
*****  
  
Master Qui-Gon Jinn strode silently through the halls of the Jedi Temple, returning from a typical, bothersome Council briefing at a time when most other sane Jedi were comfortable in their beds. It took the better part of four hours for the Council to convey their relatively simple desire. They wanted Qui-Gon to depart on another mission, immediately. Qui-Gon sighed inwardly as he palmed the lock to his quarters. He often thought that the Council purposely forwent summoning him until they knew it was an hour when he would normally be sleeping verses standing stiffly in the center of the Council chambers, giving audience to the long-winded descriptions of his many assignments.  
  
Upon entering, Qui-Gon sought out his apprentice. Rather than checking the boy's bed chambers, due to the late hour, Qui headed straight for the small balcony extending from the main chamber. Soundlessly sliding the door open, he stepped out into the comfortable, climate-controlled night, his eyes landing on the figure sleeping peacefully in one of the chairs. Qui-Gon smiled down at his apprentice, glad to see the boy getting some much needed rest. Obi-Wan had been suffering from excruciating nightmares for the past few weeks, leaving him both emotionally and physically drained. Qui-Gon had suffered also, not been able to obtain the sleep his body needed, for he had been up, comforting his distraught padawan, soothing him to the few moments of precious sleep that were unplagued by the horrible images. Unfortunately, Obi-Wan could not recall any full reason for the panic attacks which roughly aroused him every night. All he could remember were bits and pieces, a crashed transport, a bright light... pain. There was more, but no matter how long he meditated on it, he simply could not remember.  
  
Because of this, Qui-Gon loathed the thought of waking his apprentice from the only sound sleep he had had in weeks. Instead, he draped his robe over the boy for warmth and left to pack for their waiting mission. It wasn't much time, but it was time Qui-Gon could give. He only hoped it made a difference.  
  
Twenty minutes later, Qui-Gon realized he could stall no longer. He had triple checked their travel bags in an attempt to justify the extra ten minutes of rest he had given his padawan, but he knew that if he checked them over again, he would have to face a four hour long council session on how a Jedi shouldn't be so unsure of himself that he has to check his bags again, let alone three times more.   
  
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said gently as he knelt next to the chair, putting him at eye level with his apprentice. The boy's eyes fluttered and, after a soft mental nudge, slowly opened.   
  
"Master?" Obi-Wan asked, his voice thick with sleep. He reluctantly rubbed his eyes in an effort to wake up, then looked up at his master, struggling to focus.  
  
"We have been assigned to a mission. I'm sorry to wake you, but the Council wishes us to leave immediately," Qui-Gon sighed, "Perhaps you will be able to sleep on the transport,"  
  
Obi-Wan nodded his acknowledgment, too groggy to form coherent words, and languidly stood stretching out the impressive stiffness in his back, due to spending the last few hours curled in a cushion less chair...the Jedi were never known for the comfort of their furniture. He, with an automatic ritual born of countless night departures for missions, then checked to make sure all the lights were off in the few roomed apartment, grabbed his bag and followed his master into the hall, the door closing behind them.   
  
* * *  
  
The two passed through the deserted passages of the Temple, making their way towards the transport landing area. As he nearly ran to keep up with his master's long stride, Obi-Wan could feel his mind slowly clearing. The few hours of peaceful rest he received seemed only to increase the feeling of exhaustion which covered his body like a warm blanket, but he knew that it had helped, even if he couldn't feel its effects at the moment.   
  
When they arrived one of the men on late night duty awoke from his nap long enough to direct them to their waiting vessel, which was currently being refueled on platform nine.  
  
"Luck on your mission. Take good care of Ol' Reliable," the engineer called to their backs as he stifled a yawn. With one last glance at the pair, he propped his feet up on a consul, pulled his cap over his eyes and soon returned to dreamland.  
  
The Jedi had little time to ponder the nickname given to their transport by the engineer, for their worst fears were realized soon enough.   
  
"Master, what in Force's name did you say to the Council?" Obi-Wan managed to ask as he stared, opened mouthed, at the abomination presently being refueled in the loading dock assigned to their ship.  
  
Obi-Wan walked up to the side of the vessel and softly knocked on it, as if checking to see if it would withstand the extremely slight disturbance. From the look on his face, wincing with each touch, it was as if he believed it would fall apart and crush him at any moment. The decades of space dust which drifted down from their residence behind the loose plate, onto Obi-Wan's boot did nothing but confirm the notion that the ship was about to collapse.  
  
"Master, the Council can't possibly force us to take this," he said, gesturing to the mound of metal next to him, "It's older than Master Yoda!"  
  
"Hmmm, speak ill of others you should not. Especially when come to wish you a safe journey they do," Master Yoda stated as he hobbled from behind a corner of the docking bay. Qui-Gon looked at the diminutive master, wondering just what the little troll was doing hiding back there, but bowed respectfully, as did his apprentice.   
  
"Have you know I will that older than I, this ship is not. Took it for it's first flight I did when a padawan I was," Yoda said to the boy, hiding a smirk as Obi-Wan's eyes went wide with the thought of how old Master Yoda implied the ship was.   
  
"We thank you, master, for your concern," Qui-Gon replied, after a moment of suppressing the twitch that pulled on the corners of his mouth as he observed his padawan's reaction to the aged master's joke. Thank the Force he knew it was a joke. He glanced at the ship. At least, he thought so.  
  
Yoda scoffed, "Thank me do not. Return here unharmed you must. Much darkness in your future I sense."   
  
After a few tense moments, Yoda opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut off by an engineer announcing that the ship was refueled and ready for take off. Yoda turned in the direction of the engineer, studied the man for a moment, then turned back to the two Jedi.  
  
"Well? Want me to lead you aboard by the hand you do? Go," Yoda pointed to the ramp. Both Jedi groaned, but obeyed. As they went up the ramp, Obi noticed the name of the ship, painted on the side shuttle, over the wing. Amaranth. A legendary flower of a planet far, far away, that was famed for its everlasting beauty.  
  
"Who named this ship? The person sure had a flair for irony," Obi-Wan said wryly as he passed through the door onto the ship.  
  
"Be silent Obi-Wan...it was probably Yoda," Qui-Gon said, mock reproaching his apprentice as he entered, then turned to shut the hatch.  
  
"Heard that I did!"  
  
  
Reviews are not only welcome, but definitely desired...be a good little Jedi and review=) 


	2. Mission briefing...

Hey all~  
Here's the next chapter, hope you all like it!  
  
Thanx to: dovecatcher, Max452, Ivy, E. Kenobi, robinyj, M.S., skittles, Ginger Ninja, A Good Little Jedi (lol=), shen panda, Gwenhwyfar Emrys and ~Becky~...wonderful reviews, and I'm so grateful that you took the time to read my fic=)  
  
OH and Obi is 16 in this fic  
  
***  
  
"Master, not that I don't love getting up in the middle of the night and agreeing to trust my life to something that's as old as Yoda, but...what exactly are we doing?" Obi-Wan asked as he examined the sections of the ship, fighting his gut feeling to run and get as far away from this junkyard candidate as possible. But he had to admit, it was flight-worthy...barely.   
  
"You mean the mission? Obi-Wan, come sit and I'll explain," the Jedi Master said, partially in an effort to stop his apprentice's scrutinizing of their ship, and gestured to the piolet's seat as he eased himself into the co-piolet's. The vessel had already been inspected by a Temple crew and deemed flyable, there was no changing that. Worrying themselves over the imperfections of the interior would do nothing but raise the anxiety level the entire trip.   
  
Once Obi-Wan was seated and initiating the flight sequence, Qui-Gon began, "We are being sent to the planet of Gilderon. On it, hidden, is something called the Minithycirate, a power source of unknown limitations. The people who originally protected it, the people of Lithios, revered it as a sacred gift from the gods. It wasn't until several failed attempt to steal the power source, all of which came dangerously close to succeeding, did the Lithions decide that, for the safety of the Minithycirate, they must hide it. They called upon the Jedi to help then, and they do again, now. The king has gotten word that a group of Amorganian pirates have discovered that it is housed in a temple on Gilderon. Hopefully, because there are several hundred Lithion temples on Gilderon, the pirates do not know the particular temple and we have a chance of being able to retrieve the Minithycirate before the they are able to discover its exact whereabouts."   
  
  
Obi-Wan, having, apparently by defying all laws of Force and man, successfully taken off and launched the ship into hyperspace, finished typing in the auto-piolet coordinates, and allowed the information to sink in before replying. "And Master, if they do locate the Minithycirate before we arrive?"  
  
Qui-Gon thought a moment, knowing though he did not want to, he must consider the possibility, "Well, if they do, this mission will be considerably longer. We will have to hope "Ol' Reliable" lives up to both parts of her name," he smiled, but then turned serious, "The Minithycirate is not an entity that anyone can really explain, and I, frankly, am not sure if I know how to begin to. All I will say is that it is neither a true solid, liquid, nor gas. It behaves like a gas in many ways, but the particles have never separated, they are always grouped together in almost a solid ball." The Jedi looked at his charge to see if his vague description was understandable. Receiving a nod, he continued, "And, true, it has power beyond our comprehension, but it is unknown of how to harness this energy. It was too powerful to even be experimented with. So, it was encased in a Ramertharian sphere, though energy readings can still be observed from it." He fell silent, allowing a moment for his apprentice to process it all.   
  
Obi-Wan took the time to go over it again in his head. A Ramertharian sphere was an impenetrable material that, once an object was placed in it, there was no known way to remove it, which was a comfort if the pirates did manage to find it before the Jedi. But, the impenetrability worked both ways. There should be no energy readings being emitted from the sphere...  
  
Obi-Wan shook the thought from his head. He didn't want to consider what the implication of the ability of power source to emit *that* kind of energy was. Instead, he turned his attention to the actual journey there.   
  
"How long is the transport there going to be?" Obi-Wan asked, breaking away from his previous concerns.   
  
"You don't know?" Qui-Gon asked incredulously. On most missions, Obi-Wan was able to spit back the exact amount of time, down to the seconds, until their arrival.   
  
"There's no navi-chron on this system," Obi-Wan replied as he patted the consul, perhaps a little too hard, for the computer responded with an annoying loud, constant and grating sound. Obi-Wan looked down at the machine, thought for a moment, then smacked it again. The buzzing stopped. Looking up, he saw Qui-Gon's half-amused, half-distraught expression. "What?"  
  
Qui-Gon simply sighed and shook his head. "But, if I remember correctly, you do take courses on determining this kind of thing."  
  
"Yes, but I didn't see the point to learning it. Everything was computerized 300 years ago! It's not my fault that this piece of scrap has passed it's tri-centennial!" Obi-Wan grumbled.  
  
"Well, now you see a point. How long until we arrive?" Qui-Gon pressed, attempting to force Obi-Wan to use the knowledge he possessed.   
  
Obi-Wan tried to think, but his mind was starting to cloud with exhaustion. What little energy he had had before was now near gone. The complex formulas for measuring light year vs. time were not something his tired brain could handle at the moment. Seeing this, Qui-Gon took pity on the boy.  
  
"It's approximately 47 hours. Now, why don't you go and try to sleep for, say, half of them." Qui-Gon smiled and stood up, pulling his apprentice up with him. They walked together to the small commons room connecting to the single bedroom, which housed two cots. Nudging the boy towards the bedroom, Qui-Gon sat down in a rather uncomfortable chair, grabbed a data pad and prepared himself for a long journey.  
  
* * * * *  
  
An hour and a half later, a small creak drew Qui-Gon's attention from his reading. Obi-Wan walked out from bedroom, looking no more refreshed than he did when he went in. If anything, he looked worse.   
  
Dragging himself over to the chair next to Qui-Gon, he very *gracefully* dropped himself in and picked up a data pad.   
  
Qui-Gon watched with concern. "Obi-Wan, I thought I told you to get some rest," he said firmly, but his voice softened when the boy looked up at him, pain and weariness accenting his features, "Did you have another nightmare?"  
  
Obi-Wan nodded reluctantly. He had hoped that his master wouldn't notice, 'but,' he thought wryly, 'looking the way I must, he would have to be as stupid as a drakmad,' recalling the memory of the time when his master had brought one of the small, reptilian, sharply clawed, yet dimly witted, animals home. Obi-Wan had spent the entire time tormenting the poor creature. Applying the phrase 'couldn't find your way out of a wet paper bag' would definitely not an exaggeration...Obi-Wan proved that. He almost smirked at the memory, but thought better of it.  
  
"It was the same as the others, a crash, a bright light...the pain was worse though..." Obi-Wan admitted.   
  
"Obi-Wan, why were you shielding?" Qui-Gon asked, gently but sternly, "We've been over this. I cannot help you if you ke-"  
  
Qui-Gon was cut off by a sudden jolt that ran through the ship. It was followed by several, small subsequent tremors.   
  
"I'll go see what the problem is," Obi-Wan said hastily, and headed for the piolet's cabin, glad to prolong the time before he received another lecture on his shielding...He didn't want to block Qui-Gon out, it was just an instinct he used to block his pain from others. Most of the time he didn't even know he was doing it.  
  
Obi-Wan reached the readout panel and swept his gaze across it, searching for the source of the disturbance. Noticing the problem, Obi-Wan hurried back to where Qui-Gon was sitting anxiously.   
  
"Wha-" Qui-Gon began, but Obi-Wan cut him off.  
  
"How long did you say this trip would take?" Obi-Wan asked quickly.  
  
"About 47 hours,"  
  
"And how long was I asleep for?" he asked, the tension mounting in his voice.  
  
"An hour and a half--Obi-Wan, what's going on? What did you find out?" Qui-Gon asked, a bit impatiently.  
  
"Well Master, I can tell you right now, we won't make it there..."  
  
  
  
Oh and BTW, this wasn't beta read, so please forgive any errors you find...English language ::shudder:: The rest will be beta'd though, sorry I made you suffer through this=)  
  
  
This chapter was mainly background...it gets more exciting later...sorry for my little tangents, tell me if they take away from the story...  
  
  
The next chapter will be longer, I think=) As always, be a good little Jedi and review, I luv reading feedback, because feedback prevents chaos and angry readers from taking over...and it might persuade me to give you a hint at what's to come...don't know if you'll like the hint (kinda more of a "how the heck does that happen" type thing, but hey suspense good=)  
~Megan 


	3. Danger averted?

Well, here's part three...I made it longer! You have no idea how hard I had to fight the urge to stop at the place with the line of *****=) Hope you enjoy!   
  
And this part would have never been *nearly* as grammatically correct, were it not for MaraJade! She is amazing! Thank you!!!  
  
  
Here's the part where I say THANK YOU to all who reviewed=): Rinaka, Yoda, Rusho100, silverrain, KenobisGirl, Susan, Dovecatcher, ewen, Korat, siri, Ginger Ninja, freakizimi...Such good little Jedi, are you=)  
  
  
I forgot about this silly little thing called a disclaimer, so here it is...  
  
Disclaimer: FANfiction...self-explanitory (That is my idea of a disclaimer...but, just in case, I don't own them=)  
  
  
and personal thoughts: ~ are in these ~  
  
Telepathic thought: // are in these //  
  
  
  
A look of mild alarm raced across Qui-Gon's features before they turned to stone again. "What exactly do you mean, Padawan?" his voice calm, but with a definite undertone of urgency.   
  
"The fuel cells. We have none," Obi-Wan said, then tersely tried to elaborate, seeing the confusion in his master's eyes, "The tanks ruptured. We have no power, literally. The jolt was us *dropping* out of hyperspace in the middle of Force knows where!" Obi-Wan said almost frantically. He was dangerously close to losing his stereotypical Jedi reign on his emotions, knowing full well the possibly dangerous repercussions of having an open fuel source in the middle of an unknown region of space. Any heated space debris would act as the detonator. They could be blown up at any moment!   
  
Qui-Gon knew this as well. "Obi-Wan, this is not the time to center on your anxieties. You must focus on the moment. Come." Qui-Gon walked swiftly to the cockpit, his apprentice falling into step behind him. Looking at the panels, he silently cursed his lack of knowledge on the subject of spacecraft. He knew enough to allow him to fly most and was quite familiar with the running of some of the more modern vessels, but his grasp of the internal mechanics did not extend to those over 50 years old. Obi-Wan was the ship fanatic, giving Qui-Gon no reason nor desire to become a walking shuttle manual.   
  
Now, he had to rely on an apprentice from which he could almost *see* the waves of anxiety pouring off. When Obi-Wan was at his best, Qui-Gon would never second guess the ability of his padawan to come through, but now, he wasn't sure if the boy was capable of thinking calmly, let alone discovering a solution to their most dire problem. But he had to be.  
  
"Obi-Wan, listen to me," Qui-Gon said quietly, yet firmly, locking his gaze with the boy's, "I need you to center yourself. *Concentrate.* Is there any way we can get more power?"   
  
Obi-Wan nearly screamed at the thought of how much time it would take to center himself. Seconds, but seconds during which they could become Jedi space dust. However, he knew that his knowledge of the ship would do them no good if he wasn't able to calm his mind enough to access it. Closing his eyes, he took several deep breaths, clearing his mind of all but the workings of the ship. Fuel source...fuel source...The only other source of energy was that which powered the ship's navigational equipment and lights. It wasn't connected to the engines. But, maybe it could be...  
  
Eyes flicking open, Obi-Wan wordlessly pulled the cover off of one of the panels ~Force, I hope this works!~   
  
He hastily began to rewire the system, the effects of his efforts being shown as the consoles, one by one, began to power down. Finally, only one small area of the once fully functioning computer was still emitting light, indicating it alone was still functional. Obi-Wan went over to it, searched the screen, entered a number sequence, then returned to the wiring, fully shutting the ship's computer system down. Qui-Gon observed this act in silence.  
  
Only when, in the now darkened shuttle, the cockpit shook with a sudden tremor, indicating the initial thrust of the engines, did Qui-Gon notice that he had been clenching his teeth, and relaxed, flexing his jaw to relieve its stiffness. He watched his padawan sink, exhausted, into the pilot's chair, and sat down in the co-pilot's chair, breathing a sigh of relief.   
  
"Do we have enough power to get us somewhere?" The initial danger of being stranded might be gone, but there was still the possibility of being hit by space material. They needed to get out of space and repair the ship. Soon.  
  
Obi-Wan rubbed his eyes and replied tiredly, "Yes. I had to reroute the power from the crystal generator, which feeds the electronic equipment, to the engines. But, that power source is not meant to support such a large task. We cannot travel far. There is a planet that might be able to reach. I typed in its coordinates before I started the engines. Cascalar. The identifications computer was pretty much dead from the power drain, after I started the rerouting, but I did manage to get that it *is* inhabited and that it's technology *is* somewhat modern. It should be capable of handling our repair ne-"  
  
Obi-Wan was cut off as something impacted the moving ship, not causing much damage, but managed to jar the ship. He sighed and continued, "We should be able to repair and refuel there. I also had to take the shields offline to get the engines started. Even when up, they were so shoddy that they wouldn't have protected us from anything larger than Master Yoda's gimmer stick, but still, it was a comfort."   
  
Qui-Gon nodded his approval of his apprentice's actions, then leaned back, eyes closed. Obi-Wan, observant enough, despite the lack of illumination and his exhaustion, to pick up on a glimmer of humor that played across his master's face.   
  
Bewildered, Obi-Wan brought the man out of his revelry, "Master?"  
  
Qui-Gon opened his eyes and let his gaze fall upon the shadowed outline of his padawan. "Hmmm?"  
  
"What, *exactly*, is it that you find so amusing?"  
  
Qui-Gon paused a moment, then replied, "That was possibly one of the best training tests I have come up with. I was just thinking about how glad I was to have thought of it," Qui-Gon smirked, "Oh, and you passed"  
  
Obi-Wan stared at him in amazement, "Passed? *Passed*? Master, you know as well as I do that if not for me, parts of you could be floating around in space right now, making close friends with the parts of other people who were blown up because they didn't have a clue what they were doing and didn't have an apprentice to save their hide!"   
  
Qui-Gon's smirk remained, "I knew perfectly well how to handle the situation, but thought you could use some more in the field experience. Now, go sleep. We don't know what to expect on Cascalar and I want you to be in the best condition you can be." He pointed in the direction of the bedroom, "Go."  
  
"Insane," Obi-Wan muttered under his breath, but rose and obeyed.   
  
***********  
  
Three hours later, Qui-Gon was preparing to land on the desert-like terrain of Cascalar. Flying low over a small settlement, he searched for something which resembled a shuttle repair/fuel shop. The violent tremor which had, moments ago, passed through the ship served as a warning that the power supply was waning and that he had to find a service station. Now. Making another sweep above the city, he found what he was searching for. It was small and on the outskirts, but that could work to their advantage. He rather roughly touched down as close to the building as possible and stood, stretching, before he walked the short distance to the bedroom to retrieve his padawan.   
  
Upon opening the door, Qui-Gon was none too surprised to find Obi-Wan laying on his cot, wide awake, counting the ceiling panels. The boy rose the moment he was called, and the two of them made their way to the exit.   
  
As he stepped off the exit ramp, Qui-Gon mentally reminded his apprentice to be mindful of his surroundings before he did the same. The repair station sat secluded, some 500 yards from the nearest building, cut off by a natural, jagged wall of stone. The main structure was little more than a hut, made of sun-hardened clay and sand, complements of the desert terrain. There were two structures of similar composition, yet several times larger, each serving as a holding place, presumably for ships on which repairs were being done. Though together they could house about eight ships, only one was currently being serviced. To the side opposite the city, there were endless miles of white, scalding sand.   
  
The attention of the two was suddenly pulled from the characteristics of the planet the Force had deemed fit for them to land upon, and placed upon the figure walking hastily towards them. The creature, an Axlexian, was about four feet tall with pinkish skin and two pairs of tan eyes, one right above the other, an elongated mouth, and lips so large that they made his appearance almost comical. His tattered, worn tunic and pants were stained with grease and so disgusting a brown color that one could only speculate at the last time the garment had been cleaned. What little hair he had was matted to his head in a mixture of sweat and sand, taking his unkempt look one step further.   
  
The Jedi's eyes met as they both felt the ripple in the Force. Something was not right.  
  
They met the Axlexian at the base of the ramp and waited as he introduced himself, "Greetings. I am Sa'lon. It appears that your ship is great need of my services, does it not?" The first words were spoken clearly out of habitual necessity, but his eyes lit up at as he spoke the last sentence, looking the ship up and down.   
  
Qui-Gon took a moment to glance at the ship. He was sincerely grateful that nothing larger than Master Yoda's gimmer stick *had* hit them, because if anything had, judging from the fairly small but incredibly deep gashes which were scattered along the ship's outer frame, they would be dead right now.   
  
Obi-Wan fielded the question, which was more like as statement, "We need replacement fuel cells and a new crystal generator," glancing up at the relatively large gash on which Sa'lon's eyes rested. It was unsightly, true, but not anything that would pose an immediate problem and not something they would need to get taken care of right away. Plus, Obi-Wan did not trust this Axlexian to be entirely *fair* in regards to pricing, "The impact holes are not a priority at the moment. We will not need them repaired."   
  
Sa'lon's face fell, but he quickly recovered, "You have the means of paying, do you not?" he said, mentally deciding how to jack up the small amount fuel cells and a power generator for such a primitive ship would cost. Perhaps they would be talked into some new lighting equipment...  
  
// Padawan, can you handle the repairs?//  
  
Obi-Wan didn't glance away from his haggling with the diminutive creature, but acknowledge his master's question, // Yes Master. They are simple installations and will be done as soon as I get him down to a moderately outrageous price. I will be fine.//  
  
Mentally nodding, Qui-Gon slowly walked away from the ship and his apprentice to further explore the surroundings, always keeping on his guard. Something was not right.   
  
His wanderings led him to the stone wall protecting the repair station. Taking the walk to the end of it slowly, he stopped before turning the corner. Feeling the tug in the Force again, he rested his hand on his lightsaber before cautiously continuing. Fully expecting the possibility of coming face to face with some horrible demon, he was fairly surprised, and relieved, when his eyes fell upon, not a group of monsters, but a small gathering of humanoids.   
  
Qui-Gon felt a stab of pity as he looked upon their dirt-streaked faces and sun-reddened skin. Their thin, tattered clothes appearing ready to fall apart. They were attempting to take shelter in the shadow of the wall, but, due to the planet's three suns, the shade given was barely enough for two, let alone twenty. One, a male, slightly shorter and a little bulkier than Qui-Gon with black hair and eyes so dark that the pupil was barely distinguishable, was the first to notice the Jedi. He approached Qui-Gon circumspectly, not sure what to make of the stranger.   
  
  
Qui-Gon allowed the man to size him up, waiting for him to initiate any type of conversation.  
  
"Who are you?" The man asked finally, after circling Qui-Gon several times, his voice brimming with authority.  
  
"I am merely a traveler whose ship is being serviced," Qui-Gon replied calmly, not giving any information away.  
  
"Your not from this planet," the man said, tugging on Qui-Gon's robes. At the moment the man made contact with his clothes, Qui-Gon felt the Force screaming at him. He knew he must get away, this is what the Force was warning him about! This man...  
  
"No, I am not." He replied, his eyes darting past the man in front of him. The rest of the members of the group were now slowly surrounding him. They did not appear to be armed, but nearly everything could be concealed. The Force was now invading his mind with frantic signs of warning Sith! How could he have been so stupid?! Why had he approached the group? Had he learned nothing during his entire time as a Jedi?!  
  
// Padawan?// He reached out to his apprentice through the bond.  
  
//Yes, Master?//  
  
//Are the repairs nearly finished?// He asked urgently  
  
//Yes, Master, almost...Is everything all right?// The boy asked as he picked up on the urgency in his master's thoughts.  
  
//I need you to ready the ship.//   
  
//It's not yet ready-Is everything okay?//  
  
"I must be going now," Qui-Gon said calmly as he looked into the black eyes, challenging them to contradict him. When no response came, he turned on his heel and walked through a gap in the human circle.  
  
//Master, I'm coming.//  
  
//No, Obi-Wan, everything is-// He was cut off by the sound of several blasters charging up.  
  
"Stay where you are, *Jedi*."  
  
  
  
~Anyone notice that I like ending parts with dialogue? =)  
  
As always, any good little Jedi who wants to review this fic and give me whatever it is you think I have coming...comments, criticism, whatever...I will be eternally grateful AND, get this, you get your name up in the next chapter=) Who could ask for more lol... 


	4. Dreams come to pass...

Hey all!   
  
Here's a few thank u's and a few answers...  
  
Thanx: Luthien Tinuviel (in response to your question, the dreams are really just vague images, feelings mostly, of impending doom, that's all Obi-Wan can make of them, all he can remember of them...some of them come to pass in this chapter, the rest in the later ones=) siri, shen panda, Freakizimi, ~Becky~, Shanno (here's the next post...you inspired me to write with your "ways of finding out" hehehe=), BlueElli, DarlaDru, Sentimental Star, Mourning Star, KenobisGirl, Yoda (your question is the topic of chapter six...), Xejo, Ginger Ninja (lol, def. Good lil Jedi) and CYNICAL21  
  
And, yes, I do LUV the cliffhangers, lol...And they're not over yet! You will not believe the one I have in store for you later...OH am I gonna get flames about that one...  
  
Thanks so much for the incredible reviews! Ahhh, the posts after a cliffhanger are the best of them all=) You know, I considered leaving with the last part as the most recent post for an undetermined amount of time (hmmmwaahhhahaha (evil laugh)) just to see the reactions, but then, after reading the reviews, Shanno's post in particular lol, I decided that I just could not leave you guys there...so I posted this...enjoy hehehe=)  
  
  
Thoughts are ~ in these ~  
  
Speaking through the bond, //In these//  
  
  
*****  
  
  
Qui-Gon froze. Slowly, his fingers wrapped around his lightsaber as he turned to face the apparent leader. His gaze latched onto that of the man and, though he bowed slightly, it never wavered.   
  
"As you wish," Qui-Gon responded calmly before brandishing his weapon in an attempt to catch them off guard for a moment. All he needed was one moment...  
  
Most, as the Jedi master had hoped, *were* taken aback by the sudden ignition of the light sword. Most. The leader, however, was not phased in the least and wasted no time firing at the Jedi as he made a Force aided somersault onto the top of the wall. The power stream was impeccably aimed and struck its mark, despite Qui-Gon's Force enhanced speed. The blow was not enough to seriously wound, but it did break his concentration, resulting in the man's mad grab for the edge of the rock partition.   
  
Catching the erosion-smoothed stone with one hand, Qui-Gon quickly hoisted himself up and threw his body over the top in an effort to avoid any other on target shots. Dropping silently to the other side, Qui-Gon began sprinting towards the service station, putting as much distance between him and the somewhat irate group of people as possible. His escape was slowed, however, by the occasional well-aimed blaster bolt, coming from the group, all of whose members had little training with the weapon. All except one. The man with the black eyes seemed to know *exactly* where to place the power streams in order to cause the Jedi the most difficulty. But Qui-Gon was making his way back to the ship. He tried to contact his apprentice, but each attempt, his concentration was shattered by a too close for comfort shot. He could only hope the boy had followed his instructions to prepare the ship for takeoff.   
  
A sudden, fierce battery of shots was upon him, forcing him to come to a near halt in order to deflect them all. Even then, he knew he couldn't keep it up for long. Sooner or later, one would make it past his defenses...  
  
All such thoughts about his imminent demise were abruptly forced from his mind with the appearance of a blue, glowing light to his left side. ~Sith! Does the boy *ever* intend to take my instructions to heart?~   
  
With Obi-Wan's efforts, the pair was able to deflect most of the shots back to their senders, sharply cutting their number.   
  
~Well, if he did ever listen, I suppose there would be no one for him to continue to receive orders from.~ Qui-Gon thought wryly, glancing over as his padawan returned another power bolt to its sender.  
  
//Obi-Wan, I recall giving you an order to ready the ship.//  
  
//Yeah, so do I..//  
  
Qui-Gon paused, deflecting another blaster fire and giving his apprentice a sharp glance. The latter did not go unnoticed.   
  
//Master...you defy the council, I defy you, it's a never ending cycle of defiance. I couldn't, with a clear conscience, be the one to break this time honored tradition.//  
  
Qui-Gon glared at him. //Ship. *Now*.//  
  
//Yes, sir.// And with a final grin, Obi-Wan was off, sprinting back towards the ship.   
  
Qui-Gon was slowly making his way to the service station, to his escape. Sweat was running down his face and stinging his eyes. No, his garments were *not* made for this type of heat.   
  
He tried to decrease the amount people able to fire. Though the number had diminished to about ten, those left were the ones who had the most deadly aim. His attempts, however, were not successful. His 'saber's deflections were not taking anyone out. ~Force! What is going on?! There should be several more down by now!~  
  
Qui-Gon was about 50 yards away from the ship when he heard it fully power up. Deflecting one last shot, he jumped, twisting in the air, and landed some ten feet away, now facing the ship. Making a mad dash for the entrance ramp, he didn't notice when the blaster fire ceased or that the leader had holstered his weapon. All that mattered was getting on the ship.   
  
Qui-Gon made it, literally diving into the hanger. He palmed the ramp door closed, slumped against the wall, and panted something sounding vaguely like "Take off" to his waiting padawan.   
After a moment, having recovered enough to relinquish his hold on the wall, Qui-Gon stumbled into the cockpit to join his apprentice and promptly slumped into the co-pilot's chair. As they taxied down the sandy turf, Qui-Gon glanced out, though the windshield, at the band of humans, who were dangerously close to the spacecraft, watching their departure. Their expressions, the leader's in particular, caused his blood to run cold. The man was standing, arms crossed, lazily watching the take off, a smirk playing across his face...  
  
"Obi-Wan, stop!" Qui-Gon nearly shouted, causing the boy to jump so high that he smacked his head on the cockpit's relatively low ceiling.  
  
"Force! Warn me next time!" Obi-Wan grumbled as he rubbed his head, but glancing at his master's grim expression, he quickly turned serious. "What is it?"  
  
"Stop the take off," Qui-Gon's voice was tight. He couldn't get the leader's smirk out of his head.   
  
Obi-Wan pressed a few buttons. Nothing. He tried again, still no response. In fact, the craft felt as if it sped up. Desperately, Obi-Wan pulled all his knowledge of the vessel up and tried to power down the ship every way he could thing of, even going as far as to attempt to disconnect the engine's link to the fuel cells. *Nothing* worked.   
  
Obi-Wan turned to his master, "I-I can't" his voice calm, but they boy's eyes betrayed his fear. "All the controls have been frozen...I'm not in control of the ship." Obi-Wan gripped the armrest tightly as the ship left the ground.   
  
The two sat in silence trying to fully grasp what was about to happen. Most master/padawan pairs which met their deaths together had no time to say goodbye. This one did, yet neither could bring himself to utter the words.   
  
Instead, Qui-Gon gripped Obi-Wan's hand, and each clung to the other. Each clung to life.  
  
Closing his eyes, Qui-Gon attempted to find his center. He accepted that he was going to die long ago, but it is entirely different when one is on the brink of death, verses simply contemplating it. He could feel his padawan's emotions coming, unshielded, through the bond. Uncertainty, grief...guilt. Qui-Gon's eyes flew open. His padawan blamed himself for what was happening!   
  
Qui-Gon turned to the boy and started to say how *none* of this was his fault. If anyone was to blame, it would have been Qui-Gon for ignoring the Force's warnings and going off to explore the planet. Not Obi-Wan.   
  
Unfortunately, his words were stifled before they even left his tongue by the sudden downward motion of the ship. This was it, the end.   
  
Obi-Wan turned, sorrowfully, to his master, his eyes reflecting the feelings felt across the bond. He knew there wasn't much time. He had to say it now.   
  
"Master...I'm *so* sorry and...I-I love you,"  
  
This was said not a moment too soon, for Qui-Gon did not have even the time to formulate a response before the impact. Qui-Gon knew what was happening, but it was almost as if he was watching it happen to someone else, rather than himself. He knew that he was being injured and knew exactly how and where, but he didn't *feel* anything. Didn't feel the explosions burning through his tunic. Didn't feel the shards of metal slicing his flesh. Didn't feel the impact of the shatter windshield or the scrape of the glass splinters as an explosion threw him through the window, landing him in a pocket of dry weeds, well away from the now flaming ship.   
  
Through glazed eyes the Jedi master watched as the shuttle which had once been an aged, yet still functioning member of the Republic fleet became a warped, twisted piece of melted metal. Melted metal which imprisoned his apprentice.   
  
As the darkness began to overwhelm him, Qui-Gon gathered his strength and sent out one message through the force before he succumbed.  
  
//I love you too, my padawan.//  
  
There was no response.   
  
  
  
  
Is this one better than the last? Sorry, I feel evil today...Be a good lil Jedi and, as always, review...flames, threats, comments, concerns, whatever...It *might* motivate me to write faster...=)  
~Megan 


	5. The savior...

Hey all=)  
Wow! I'm making all chapters cliffhangers! Hehehe=) Sorry this took so long to post, The betaing process was a long one...out of everyone's control, sorry=) I'd like to thank MaraJade for her excellect imput and I'd like to thank Soda Baron for the wonderful help=)  
  
Thank yous (a lot=): Freakizimi, Nathalie, BlueElli, Ginger Ninja, sliverrain, shen panda (Ummmmm no holding out...nope not at all...not in the slightest...yeah...=), siri, Xejo, HarpersAngel, Jen, BlazerAkila, Mourning Star, Melima8788, ~Becky~, ravensweed, Sentimental Star, Shanno, DarlaDru, Luthien Tinuviel, Enigma Jade, reader #212 (? LoL) and, last but also first lol, Freakizimi=)  
  
Again, Wow!, I say=) Thankx everyone sooooo much for all the threa- errr- *reviews* this one is a bit less cliffhangery than the last one was, but have no fear, I have more in store for you all!   
  
  
  
//telepathic messages//  
  
~personal thoughts~  
  
*****  
  
  
Blurred images raced through his head, distorted to mere splotches of color, as consciousness slipped in and out of his mind's grasp. Slowly, comprehendible thoughts began to form, the foremost of which concerning the immense pain which could now be felt radiating throughout his entire body. Sith, even his hair hurt.   
  
Unable to recede back into the dark abyss from which he came, Qui-Gon fought to open his eyes. If he was going to be in pain either way, he preferred to at least see what was going on.   
  
Pushing confusion from his mind, he focused on what, exactly, had happened to leave him unable to even pull open his eyelids. He remembered the pain. Well, he could still feel the pain, so that didn't really count for anything. Concentrating harder, his mind played back images. His escape to the ship, talking with Obi-Wan...the explosions. Obi-Wan! He was still in the ship!   
  
The thought of his padawan in peril was enough to make Qui-Gon jerk his head off the sandy ground...and enough to give a new meaning to the word 'pain.' Putting his head back down, he turned his eyes to the now smoldering wreckage, frantically searching the heap, using both his senses and the Force, for any signs of life. Nothing.  
  
Twilight was fast approaching. How long had he been unconscious? He didn't know the planet's day cycle. It could have been minutes...it could have been hours...  
  
A noise drew his attention from the search. Approaching the ship was the band of humans, the cause of Qui-Gon's grief. He did not move as they searched through the scraps of warped metal, but not because he didn't want to. *So* many un-Jedi emotions raced through his mind as he watched them dig.   
  
All of these feelings were dwarfed by the one of supreme joy which sprang forth at the words of one of the men, "Here's one. He's alive."  
  
Obi-Wan was alive.   
  
"Where's the other?" the leader called as he poked under a large sheet of metal. Qui-Gon held his breath. Though the knowledge of his padawan lifted a tremendous weight from his shoulders, there was no way he would be able to defend himself from them. He couldn't even lift his head without excruciating pain.   
  
Mumbles of uncertainty ran through the followers. The brush served as the perfect cover. No one suspected him to be there.  
  
The leader growled and hurled a piece of the ship into the small group, scattering them. He then stalked out of the wreckage, back towards the service station. "Idiots," he muttered before he made a sharp gesture, never turning back to face his followers. "Come! Bring the boy. He will have to do."  
  
Qui-Gon watched helplessly as his padawan's limp form was dragged across the sand. He knew there was nothing that he could do for the boy and he hated himself for it.   
  
Out of other options, Qui-Gon slowly reached down to his comlink and activated the homing beacon. It would serve as a distress call and be sent through to the nearest Jedi, alerting them of their fallen comrade's location.   
  
//I *will* find you, my padawan,// he swore into the Force, mostly for his own reassurance, because the one for whom the words were meant would never hear them.  
  
  
*****  
  
  
Waking, while never something he enjoyed, had never been less pleasant for Obi-Wan Kenobi.   
  
Slowly opening his eyes, Obi-Wan pushed back all thoughts of the agony he was in and attempted to clear his head. As soon as he was able, he ran a check through the Force of his injuries. They were definitely substantial, to say the least. The odd thing was that they were healing, but not on their own.   
  
Slowly bringing his gaze to the spot on his arm where he knew there to be a large gash, Obi-Wan saw a strip of bacta.   
  
~Thank the Force, I'm safe,~ he thought as he closed his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching into the closest thing to a smile he could muster.   
  
Obi-Wan, out of habit, then searched the Force for his master's comforting presence, but was alarmed to find no trace of him.  
  
Eyes flying open again, he reevaluated his situation. He could see now that he was in a medical bay of a ship and, from the looks of his treatment, someone had obviously taken pains to be sure that his injuries would heal correctly. But, something didn't feel right. Something besides the lack of his master's presence, which had already set off hundreds of warning bells in his head. What else?   
  
The question was answered promptly after it was conceived. The swish of doors opening prompted him to turn his head towards the entrance to the medical bay...and the nausea which followed that slight movement prompted him to add concussion to his growing list of injuries. ~I really should learn how to do a Force examination...how could I miss a concussion?~   
  
He turned his attention back to the figure, who, clad in a black cloak and tunic, had just strolled into the room and was now standing at the foot of his bed.   
  
"And how are we feeling?" the man asked with a cheerfulness that did not extend to his pupil-less eyes.   
  
Receiving no sign of acknowledgment from Obi-Wan, the man playfully scolded the boy, "Now, is that the right way to treat the man who is responsible for your care?"gesturing to the various bacta patches which adorned Obi-Wan's body. His voice turned cold, "Is that the *smart* way to treat him?"   
  
~If he's a festering pile of sithly bantha corpses who sabotaged your ship and was responsible for nearly killing you, then yes, I think it is,~ Obi-Wan though maliciously, pushing his own guilt to the back of his mind and willingly allowing anger to slowly take its place. Despite his raging emotions, he remained silent, his internal struggle never manifesting itself in the form of an outward expressions.  
  
The two stared at each other for a moment, Obi-Wan could feel the anger building in man as he glared at the boy, wanting, but not receiving, a response. Regardless of the irate emotions swirling in the man, he thoroughly surprised Obi-Wan by slapping him soundly across the face.  
  
"Watch your language," the man snarled, then, instantly, he switched his tone to one of amusement and proceeded as if his assault on the boy had never occurred, "Yes," he chuckled as he answered Obi-Wan's unasked question, "I am Force sensitive,"  
  
Obi-Wan tried to make sense of the man before him. One moment he was vicious, the next, he was laughing as if nothing had happened. Checking his shields before he dared to broach the man's behavior more deeply, Obi-Wan assured himself of their strength, then let a part of his brain debate over the man who stood before him, before coming to a conclusion. ~A mental case is what he is.~  
  
His captor's eyes turned hard once again as he locked his gaze with Obi-Wan's, speaking to the boy as one does while harshly reprimanding a disobedient child, "Though I have never been to your *Jedi Temple*, one would think they would teach you to respect your elders...or, at the very least, the proper way to shield your thoughts."  
  
The sound of the door opening interrupted this happy little moment, drawing the man's attention from Obi-Wan, and focusing it on the healer who had just entered the ward.   
  
"Ah, Healer M'ta. I was just discussing with your patient the finer points of Jedi etiquette, or, rather, lack there of," the man smiled while addressing the young, blond, woman, who hesitantly approached him, trying to keep her distance without appearing to do so.   
  
"Yes, sir," the human bowed deeply, her voice quiet and submissive. Holding the position for a moment, the woman drew herself up again, but kept her eyes cast downwards. "What do you wish to be done with the boy?"  
  
"One moment, please," the man smiled to her once again before turning back to Obi-Wan. With his expression an odd mix of both mirth and malice, the man reached down and ran his hand gently over Obi-Wan's injured arm. Pausing at the bacta patch, the man gave a smile that sent a chill down the padawan's spine before ripping the strongly adhered healing aid off the boy's skin Biting back a cry of pain, the boy's never looked away from those pupil-less eyes.  
  
Glancing down at the nearly healed wound surrounded by a fast reddening square of skin, the man smirked, then turned back to the healer, "He has been here long enough. Have him prepared, then sent to the chambers."  
  
"As you wish, Lord Demar," the healer replied obediently, her eyes fixed on one of the floor tiles.  
  
"Excellent," the man, Demar, replied and, as he walked out the door, he caressed the woman's cheek, receiving from her an unconscious flinch, which he either did not notice, or chose to ignore.   
  
Once he was gone, the woman visibly relaxed, but payed Obi-Wan no mind as she began removing the bacta patches, doing her task as though she was not tending to another living being.   
  
Not that Obi-Wan noticed her behavior, for he was too deep in thought to care. Thinking about his master...whether his mentor was all right. He could tell Qui-Gon was alive through his bond, but nothing more. He tried to reach out to him, but found his link barred. Cringing internally at the guilt that flooded him when he came upon the shield, he could not determine whether the shields were placed up by his master, or whether the man was unconscious. Either situation was caused by him. Fairly certain that, no matter what horrendous atrocity he committed, his master would never block him, that left the Qui-Gon being unconscious the only plausable reason. A wave of nausea passed over Obi-Wan as he thought of the pain he had caused his master...  
  
Well, he would not disappoint him again. Both reluctantly and gratefully he pushed such thoughts to the back of his mind, and Obi-Wan turned his attention to his present problem, to the moment, to the one who held here on this ship, this Demar. The man was obviously unstable, the few minutes Obi-Wan spent with the him were enough to tell him that, but what he was capable of was yet to be determined. He was Force sensitive. Obi-Wan did not know what possibilities that fact gave way to, but he was certain that very few would work to his favor.  
  
  
  
  
Well, they're not dead...that should inspire some happiness, right?=) As always, be a good lil Jedi and review=) Thanx for reading it=) 


	6. Any preferences?

Hey everyone~  
Wow, you know, the previous chapter's ending was so far down on my list of cliffy ways I'm ending my chapters to even register, but this one registers=)...Interesting that the question of what happens to Qui-Gon came up, yes, interesting...you will find out, I'm guessing in like 2-3 chapters hehehe, still have to write it, but the scene has been in my head since before I even sat down at my computer to write...And there is no longer any holding out on u guyz...I'm writing chapter seven 2night, then sending it to my betas (Thank you!!! MaraJade, wonderful comments/helpful/encouraging comments, as always=) Soda Baron, luved your nitpicking=) so it will be a couple of days...but that's not new=)  
  
Here's the thanx part=): Enigma Jade, silverrain, KenobisGirl, ~Becky~, Jevvica, BlueElli, princessj_15, shen panda, Freakizimi, BlazerAkila (I'm sooo sorry about my inablility to us a key board properly, it's fixed now=)  
  
*****  
  
  
"Force! What did you do to yourself *this* time, Jinn?"  
  
The voice of another was enough to pull Qui-Gon out from the murky waters of the unconscious by which he had willingly allowed himself to be engulfed. In the unconscious, he could forget. The fact that he could do nothing but sit, lie rather, and wait to be rescued was not something he wanted to dwell on. The fact that he could do nothing for his padawan was not something he wanted to dwell on...  
  
Stifling a groan, Qui-Gon pulled open his eyes, wincing at the effect the light from three suns had on his already throbbing head. Biting back the pain, he raised his head, eyes slowly coming to focus on his savior. Seeing the familiar face, Qui-Gon suppressed another groan, but this one wasn't caused by the physical agony he was in.  
  
"Mace...you were the closest Jedi?" Qui-Gon said as he made an attempt to sit up, but was rewarded by a wonderful display of colored splotches which danced across his pain distorted vision. Though he was infinitely relieved to see his friend, he did not need Mace's dry comments or his oh so tactful way of stating his opinions regarding Qui-Gon's methods. He was definitely not up to enduring Mace's bantering in his present condition.   
  
"The next is over five standard days away, but if you would like me to allow him the pleasure of continuing this rescue, I won't argue," turning slowly away from the fallen Jedi, Mace smiled as he was stopped by the grunt he knew would come.   
  
"Oh, so you *want* my help now? Then let's get on with this," Mace ran a quick Force check of Qui-Gon's wounds and, deeming none life threatening at the moment, he quickly scanned the surrounding area, "Where's that wayward apprentice of yours? I have no doubt that, given his habit of spending the first week after every mission submersed in bacta, he will be needing some attention as well."  
  
Mace's inquiry was rewarded with a sharp breath intake from the fallen Jedi master. Concerned, Mace turned his full attention to his comrade, "What is it?"  
  
Qui-Gon swallowed hard against the lump in his throat and the panic attack which threatened to over come him. How could he have not thought about his padawan until Mace brought him up?! Closing his eyes and releasing his distress into the Force, he quickly checked the bond with his apprentice, relieved to find it active. Weakened horribly due to distance and the condition of the bonded, but there. Obi-Wan was not dead.   
  
Eyes still closed, he responded in an even tone, "He was taken." Qui-Gon opened his eyes to meet the compassionate gaze of the other man and added, emotion and pain choking his voice, "We *must* find him."  
  
"We will, my friend" Mace said as he prepared Qui-Gon to be transported back to his shuttle, his voice hardened as his eyes strayed, coming to rest on the twisted pile of metal now partially buried in the pearly sand, "We will."  
  
  
*****  
  
  
Obi-Wan had long ceased struggling against the chains which bound him in a submissive kneeling position. His wrists suspended above his head by shackles which hung down from the low ceiling and legs fastened to the cold, stone floor by thick, metal bands encircling his ankles. Any movement only served to grind the rusted restraints against the already torn skin. And without the Force to dampen the pain, thanks to the choking inhibitor that he had been collared with, he gladly resorted to anything that might lessen his agony.   
  
Though still not fully healed when he was dragged from the medical wing, Obi-Wan had ignored the pain that the two soldiers who came to retrieve him had inflicted through their use of and electro-shocker. They had only laughed mockingly at his attempt to retain his stoic composure.   
  
Once they had reached their destination, presumably the chambers Demar had spoken of, he was roughly chained in the small, dark room. The circular, stone cell reeked with something Obi-Wan could not quite place. Though it was not surprising that the enclosure stank, for two narrow, horizontal slits at the point at which the ceiling and wall met served as the only ventilation for the stale air. Void of all furniture, except a cabinet which was fit against the wall a few feet from the door and, of course, the restraints, the room looked even more foreboding in what little light the windows provided.  
  
Obi-Wan remembered the question he spat at the guards as he realized that he was to be bound in the middle of the suffocating room. Why had he been remedied, if he was only to be bound moments after he was removed from the healer's care? The sheer joy the guard who answered him projected as he answered the question sent a chill down Obi-Wan's spine.   
  
"My Lord prefers his guests to be in the best of health before they are broken."  
  
Broken...The knowledge of what was to happen was almost as bad as the actual deeds. The anticipation was tearing the apprentice apart. Maybe this was part of his torture.   
  
It could have been minutes or it could have been hours, Obi-Wan had lost all sense of time between the point at which he was locked into the manacles, head bowed against the guards' cruel laughter as they left him to await his fate, and the time when the door swished open again, alerting him that fate had come for him.   
  
Squinting against the sudden glare of light which came unbidden into the dismal prison, Obi-Wan recognized Demar's silhouette as the man strolled down the few steps, his shoes creating echoing clicks as they contacted with the worn stone floor, the door closing in his wake.   
  
"Ah, my friend, I trust you are comfortable with the accommodations you have been provided with," Demar smiled as he tugged on one of the chains binding Obi-Wan's wrists, bouncing one arm, painfully rubbing the rough metal against the boy's already raw skin.   
  
Stopping, Demar dropped the chain, his attention caught by the blood trickling down the padawan's arm. Catching a drop on his thumb, the man brought his hand closer to his face, examining the droplet before rubbing it between his thumb and index finger, a grin slowly spreading on his face.   
  
Ignoring the man's actions and the pain which resulted, Obi-Wan looked up to the man's face, eye's hard, "Why are you doing this?" he asked, voice never wavering.  
  
A flash of humor ran through the man's eyes, "You mean that you, a *Jedi*, do not know why I have gone through the trouble of brining you here?" Receiving an emotionless stare from Obi-Wan, the man continued, "Oh, this is priceless! You, a *Jedi*, one of the *elite*, cannot deduce my simple plan." Obi-Wan noticed that each time the man spoke the word 'Jedi,' he spat it out like one would the filthiest of curse words.   
  
After Demar's rant, he lapsed into a fit of laughter with Obi-Wan looking silently on...what more could he do?  
  
Regaining his composure, Demar addressed the boy's question again, still wiping tears from his eyes, "Well, my dear *Jedi*, you have something I want. It's as simple as that."  
  
Taking Obi-Wan's silent stare as a lack of understanding, he continued, his tone an exasperated one brought on by what he perceived as his captive's ignorance, "Information, little *Jedi*, I need information. Surely you know the details of the mission you were on. That is what I need, the location of the Minithycirate."  
  
Obi-Wan's ears perked at the information...were these the pirates Qui-Gon spoke of? If so, didn't they already know the location of the power source? Choosing his words carefully, Obi-Wan replied, "Are you not the Amorganian pirates?"  
  
Demar smiled at Obi-Wan's knowledge, and began to slowly walk in a circle around the chained padawan, "Yes, this is a pirate vessel and yes, I am a pirate. Now, if you knew that, then you must have been told where those fools hid the energy source." Now directly behind Obi-Wan, Demar reached over Obi-Wan's shoulder, grabbed the front of his tunic, and wrenched the boy up with such strength that Obi-Wan barely succeeded in fighting back a whimper of pain as the jagged metal bindings dug deeper into his ankles. Demar whispered in Obi-Wan's ear, "Tell me what I want to know, boy."  
  
Obi-Wan opened his mouth to speak and was promptly released. Demar quickly strode to his previous space in front of the boy. Obi-Wan had dropped his head and closed his mouth, but Demar bent down latched his hand under the padawan's chin and roughly brought his head up, their gazes meeting.   
  
"Where is it?" Demar growled as he straightened.   
  
Obi-Wan took a moment to calm his pain, then responded with his own question, "I was told you knew where the Minithycirate is, why do you need me to tell you?"  
  
"You were told what I wanted you to be told, boy," Demar spat, "The Lithions, pesky creatures, though not incredibly bright, are nearly immune to Force manipulations. I captured one of their senators, knowing he knew the item's whereabouts, but was unable to force him to tell its location." Demar paused, smiling the amount of cleverness he believed he had incorporated into his next action, "But, I found a way around that. The senator was immune a Force suggestion of the caliber that I wanted, but he was not to lesser ones."   
  
A look of pride settled in his features as he continued, "I then, realizing I was getting nowhere trying to get him to tell me where the Minithycirate was, told him that *I* knew where it was. I implanted a memory in the senator of his receiving of the information, from a trusted source of course, that pirates knew the location of the sacred object. Then, all that needed to be done was place the man back on his planet with the memory of his mind alteration replaced with that of a lush sabbatical, retaining only the memory of the 'warning.' I knew that it would only be a matter of time before the Jedi were called in, so I waited." Looking down at Obi-Wan, Demar smiled when he saw the glimmer of confusion flash in the Jedi's eyes.  
  
"But, how did you know which Jedi would be summoned, and when they would?" Obi-Wan asked, almost fearing the answer.  
  
"It's easy when you have friends at the temple..."  
  
There were spies at the temple? Did that mean that there were also saboteurs?  
  
"And, the ship..."  
  
"Landing on Cascalar was not an accident...and neither, as I'm sure you have gathered, was the crash..." Demar's eyes glistened with excitement as he saw the realization come down upon Obi-Wan, and he relished at the effect his tale had on the boy.  
  
"Now, back to the matter at hand. Do you want to tell me where I should be looking, hmmm?" Obi-Wan's features became stoic once again as the pirate continued his previous questioning, "No? Good. We get to do this the hard way."   
  
Turning away from Obi-Wan and walking towards the cabinet, Demar languidly made a fist with his right hand and slowly raised it. Corresponding to the man's actions, the chain attached to Obi-Wan's right wrist slowly pulled him upward, stretching his body, digging the metal bindings deeper yet again. Obi-Wan took in a sharp breath as the pain came suddenly, assaulting his wounded body.   
  
Demar's hand dropped and so did Obi-Wan as the man reached the small cabinet. Undoing the latch, he pulled the double doors open to reveal an impressive collection of torture devices.  
  
Smiling back at Obi-Wan, he asked, "Any preferences?"   
  
  
Answer any questions about Demar? Hopefully...he'll get more into the repressed childhood memory stuff later lol=) as always, good lil Jedi review, and everyone here is a good lil Jedi, right???=) 


	7. Unexpected...

Hey all~  
I'm soooo sorry about the lateness of this chapter! I sent it to my betas a week ago, thinking I would be getting it back soon and post, at latest, mid-week. However, my internal diagram of the betaing process was, as I'm sure you've gathered, entirely *wrong* =) They have lives themselves and I neglected that factor in my prediction=) I'm sorry. So, I decided that I should just post this now and add revisions later, at my betas convenience. I went over the chapter and, though it's surely far from where I want it to be, I think it's decent enough to post...but that's just me, so tell me what you think!  
  
Thanx to: skittles, Max452, Yoda, ~Becky~, iverson, Ginger Ninja, Freakizimi, BlueElli, Jay, siri, shen panda, Shanno, Emerald, sz2000, Kat, AngelAssassin   
  
Thank you guyz soooo incredibly much! Hope you enjoy!  
  
***Obi torture starts here***  
  
  
  
  
"No."  
  
"But I hav-"  
  
"No."  
  
Sighing, Mace Windu closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ward off first signs of the impending headache. He sighed again before opening his eyes and matching his comrade's stare, neither backing down.   
  
"Qui, listen to me. The Council knows that I went to find you. They know how long it would have taken me. I can't just *not* contact them," Mace was losing his patients, "We'll return to Coruscant and another team will be dispatched to search for him."  
  
Frustrated, Qui-Gon pushed himself up from his sitting position on a makeshift sleep couch in Mace's ship and began to pace, stiffly. "Yes, Mace, that is exactly what the Council will do. They'll send a team which has no connection to him whatsoever, no idea where to *begin* to look, and have them search Force knows where until a respectable amount of time has passed and they return, without him, offering condolences and empty words of insincere sorrow. And what will I be doing? I'll be fulfilling my masterly duties by siting in a bacta tank, waiting." Qui-Gon's pacing had lead him squarely in front of Mace. He was face to face with the other Jedi, eyes gleaming, daring Mace to challenge him.  
  
"I'm sorry Mace, but I cannot consent to sitting idly by, conforming to the Council's wishes as my apprentice suffers."  
  
"Qui, you misunderstand me. I, as do you, want to see Obi-Wan back in the safety of his master's care, back in the safety of the Jedi, but we cannot rush into this. You're injured. If you go on a mission of this intensity, there is a good chance that you will not make it back alive," Mace tried to reason with his old friend, tried to force Qui-Gon to see things from his point of view. Qui-Gon, however, had a different outlook on the situation.  
  
"You expect me to allow a sixteen year-old to face these people alone? Did you *see* what they did to our ship?" Qui-Gon was furious! How dare Mace even *think* to ask him to compromise his course of actions when it came matters of his apprentice's well-being!  
  
"But how do you know he's alive to face them?" Mace asked softly, recalling the first few minutes both had been in the safety of his cruiser...  
  
  
  
As soon as they were in, Mace laid Qui-Gon down upon a sleep couch began bandaging his wounds. As Mace was smearing the bacta, the injured man gasped and let out a soft yelp. Concerned that something had physically caused the outburst, Mace quickly did a Force scan of the now healing injuries. Finding nothing worse off than before, Mace questioned Qui-Gon. In a monotone voice, Qui-Gon replied that he could not feel Obi-Wan, that their bond had ceased to pulse with the boy's Force signature. Briefly pausing to release his own grief into the Force, (Mace had been fond of the boy, despite what Obi-Wan might have thought) he began to offer words of condolence to his friend. Qui-Gon did not acknowledge his comrades attempts at sympathy, but simply stared blankly, eyes unfocused. Around the third time Mace expressed his sorrow for Obi-Wan death, Qui-Gon broke out of his revelry, insisting the opposite.  
  
"I know he is alive Mace."...  
  
  
  
Mace shook the memory from his head. He had indulged Qui-Gon's insistent claims to Obi-Wan's living, but this had to be stopped. He had, himself, already, upon closer inspection through the Force, confirmed the lack of the bond's activity. "Qui..."  
  
"Don't 'Qui' me! I know what you wish to say, but let me save you the breath. True, our bond does not confirm his life, but neither have I felt his death. I *know* he is not dead." Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Qui-Gon continued, "Do what you must in regards to the Council...and I will do what I must in regards to my padawan."  
  
Walking slowly through the steel hallways, grasping the walls for support, Qui-Gon made his way to the small, two person escape pod which was located at the rear of the spacecraft.   
  
"Jinn, you can't. Look at you, you can barely stand. You can't possibly carry out a rescue mission in your condition! What am I to tell the Council?" Mace grabbed his friend's arm, turning the man and giving him a pleading stare.   
  
"Tell them the truth, tell them a lie, it's not my concern. You could say that I was so grief stricken that I jumped out the hanger door in hyperspace, or that I impaled myself on my own lightsaber. You could tell them that I choked on a large piece of bantha meat for all I care. Now let me go." Qui-Gon words were eerily calm and his midnight blue eyes were as hard as ice, betraying no glimmer of weakness. Mace was not going to win this and he knew it.   
  
"My mission was to rescue you and bring you safely back to the Temple. I have never given up on a mission without a fight and this will *not* be my first," He released Qui-Gon's arm and stalked over to the com unit. Qui-Gon scowled and resumed his journey to the escape pod, he had to get out before Mace finished reporting him. However, it was what Mace said into the device that stopped Qui-Gon dead in his tracks.  
  
"Master Yoda? I have a problem. Yes, I won't be returning to the Temple as scheduled. Yes, one of my engines blew a circuit..."  
  
  
*****  
  
  
"Now, shall we try this *one* more time?" Demar strolled around Obi-Wan as he spoke, "You know, I could do this all day...or perhaps all night...I've lost track of time in my fun," he said with a smirk.   
  
"Just tell me what you know, then I can make it stop..." Demar let his sentence trail off as he stuck another one of his play things into Obi-Wan's chest.   
  
The favored item seemed to be a collection of needle-like metal shards which served to turn Obi-Wan into a living, bleeding pincushion. The only difference was that these pins had a small addition which allowed them to, once in the flesh of the victim, latch under the skin by way of five sharp, retractable "claws." Though they did not cause, relatively, much damage, the extraction was extremely painful. Obi-Wan had not had to suffer from this part of the torture yet, but what goes in must come out...  
  
Obi-Wan surpressed a yelp of pain as Demar pressed another needle into his right shoulder. The inserting of the needle was not *that* painful, but the sound and feel of the metal claw tearing the under layer of tissue had made him nearly gag more than once.   
  
Demar quickly stuck three more needles into the boy's stomach then stood back and stared with delight as the padawan's face flickered with each sickening rip of the muscle.   
  
Picking up another needle, Demar gazed thoughtfully at Obi-Wan and cupped they boy's chin in his free hand. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, biting back a flinch, as Demar used the point of the needle to trace the curves of his face, which had yet to be marred by the torture. The padawan winced as the needle made an accidental incision along his jaw line, Demar, surprisingly, pulled back.  
  
"No...no, we don't want to scar you there yet. No, not yet..." Demar muttered as he staightened, and Obi-Wan watched as his captor grabbed the bag of needles, placed it back in the cabinet and pulled out an empty metal bowl after he wiped his hand on a towel hanging from the inside of one of the cabinet doors.  
  
"Is there anything you would like to share yet?" he asked as he went around behind Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan ignored the question and simply closed his eyes, bracing himself for the next form of pain, whenever it would befall him.  
  
"That's too bad. Not that any revelation would have mattered. I still would have gone through with the extraction. I'm sure you understand. I wouldn't want to leave you like this." Smiling, Demar traced a finger through the maze of needles which peppered Obi-Wan's back. "267 needles and I haven't a clue where to begin..."  
  
Demar continued to ponder for what seemed like several excruciating hours to the padawan, but what only must have been, at most, several minutes. Finally, choosing a pin which had dug down deep near the boy's collar bone, Demar gripped it tightly between his thumb and index finger and pulled. The extraction of the needle was accompanied by the sickening tearing of skin and tissue. Obi-Wan barely managed to stifle the moan of pain and suppress wave of nausea which washed over him.   
  
In an unconscious effort to escape the present, he turned his mind away from the horror of this individual moment, and to the horror of his entire situation. The Force was of no use to him, he had been cut off. His master was perhaps dead and, if he wasn't, probably too disgusted with his apprentice's actions to even bother to look for him. He had no clue as to where he was or what was in store for him...For the first time in his life, Obi-Wan felt truly alone.  
  
The ping of metal hitting metal brought Obi-Wan out of his mental anguish and back to the physical. Demar had dropped the needle into the metal bowl and was now in the process of choosing his next extraction, " Decisions, decisions..."  
  
  
Well, what do you think? I have no experience writing Obi-torture, so tell me what you think about it. As always, be a good lil Jedi and review, I wanna know what your thoughts are! 


	8. The healing process...

Hey all~  
Sorry for the lateness of this post...my computer was playing "lets see how many times I can kick her off the 'net before she cracks my moniter" and I had some exams which took priority (as much as I wished they didn't lol=) I also finished thinking how I'm gonna end this fic...it isn't far off=( but the good part is that I making this into a series. I'm not very happy with the way that my chapters flow and so, what I think I'm gonna do is write it first, get it betaed, then post one every night...you'll have to wait a little bit in between fics, but you won't have to wait for chapters...sound good? Anyway, I'm guessing 3-5 more chapters after this one so I'm gonna just start my expression of gratitude now=) Everyone has been SO supportive! I mean, 101 reviews, all with the sweetest comments=) I luv you all! lol You have made my writing so much fun, Thank you!!! (expect somehthing to this nature in the rest of the chapters lol) now onto the individual chapter 7 thanks...  
  
Thanx to: siri, BlazerAkila, BlueElli, skittles, Enigma Jade, ravensweed, KenobisGirl, shan, Freakizimi, Ginger Ninja, shen panda, Duma, ~Becky~  
  
And sorry to anyone who came her expecting a chapter earlier today, I just wasn't very happy with it...I'm still not as happy with it as I'd like to be, but I figure that this is as good as I'm gonna get for now, so if I have time later, then I'll revise it again...And, I'm sorry it took so long, I've been gone from 6:30 this morning to 10:00 tonight...long day=) But, as it is now 11:49, I'm gonna post, then, hopefully, be off to dreamland, Ta!  
  
Not betaed...didn't think you would want to wait another week lol=)  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
"Oh look, we've passed that asteroid three times now."  
  
The glare Mace Windu received did nothing to stifle his pointed remarks.  
  
"I'm sure that with the number of times we've circled this planet, we could be deemed one of Cascalar's official orbiting satellites."  
  
"Mace..."  
  
"You know, I don't know why I ever agreed to you piloting. My ship, my mission, my career as a Jedi on the line...you would think that would entitle me to some privileges."  
  
"My apprentice, my responsibility, my course of action," Qui-Gon eyes iced over as he turned his attention from the various scanner consuls to the irritated Jedi occupying the copilot's seat.   
  
"I no more wanted you to prevaricate to the Council than you wanted documentation of a failure to complete such a simple assignment as retrieving an injured Jedi on your mission record. What you did you did neither out of concern for my well being nor out of fear for my apprentice's safety, but out of your own selfish desire to preserve your pristine Jedi image," Qui-Gon was nearly shaking with rage. His worry had manifested itself in his anger and, due to lack of sentient beings, Mace was about to be the sole recipient of Qui-Gon's wrath.   
  
Unable to physically contain his frustrations any longer, Qui-Gon hastily rose and began pacing fiercely in what little space the cockpit had, which was not taken up by machinery or the crew's seats, "Returning to the Temple alone, well that's just not something the Great Mace Windu does. Especially not when he was supposed to haul an incapacitated rogue along with him. Explaining to the Council how an injured man was able to slip away from the watchful eye of one whose greatest aspiration is to sit among the Council's ranks...not the kind of thing you want to have to muddle your way through is it?"  
  
Qui-Gon maintained his brisk pace as he continued, never once glancing at the his companion who sat silently absorbing what was said, "But, wait! To return without the injured maverick would be looked upon as failure, however, to follow the Jedi, to protect him, would be looked upon as courage, devotion, nobility! And if on the odd chance the apprentice was indeed rescued, Mace Windu would be glorified as a hero. And if the boy wasn't, well, not that much hope could have ever been held for a situation as desperate as this, but he did try."  
  
Qui-Gon could have gone on much longer if it weren't for the hand which firmly caught his arm as the Jedi made another sharp turn in his pacing. Forcibly turning Qui-Gon towards him, Mace held eye contact with his comrade, silently both commanding and pleading to be listened to.   
  
"Qui-Gon, do you honestly believe my intentions to be tainted? Have we grown that far apart that you think me to be so different a man than the boy you knew as a padawan?" Mace's gaze wavered as his emotional shields faulted, momentarily allowing the detriment Qui-Gon had inflicted cloud his eyes, "Old friend, you know as well as I do that if I had sincerely wished you to remain on this ship and accompany me back to Coruscant, I would now be standing through another impossibly long debriefing session and you would be floating in a tank of bacta worrying about Obi-Wan."  
  
"You mean as opposed to worrying here?" Qui-Gon spat back, but his eyes belied the harshness of his words. An immeasurable depth of grief, painfully replacing what little hope that had been held, made his eyes look dull and flat. Made them look dead.   
  
Qui-Gon sighed wearily and pulled away, turning his attention to one of the various monitors, "I know that we've been going around in circles, but there is nothing more that I can think to do, " he said softly, but the degree of desperation was all to evident in his words. "I can only hope that they have not made the jump into hyperspace, hope that they believe themselves to have outwitted the Jedi," the words were accompanied by a failed attempt at a smile, if it could be called that for the emotions which came with it were completely contrary to those which customarily companion a grin.   
  
At a loss of how to comfort his friend, Mace gratefully turned his attention to the nearest monitor and glanced at the results of the most recent scan. "Qui!" he breathed, never taking his eyes from the screen for fear the data would disappear if he did, "The scanners have picked up a ship."  
  
  
* * *  
  
Demar did not believe his torture methods to be overly cruel. No, quite the contrary for, as he saw it, he healed as much as he hurt. Every injury he inflicted was remedied in one way or another and, in some of the most delectable situations, the healing process produced as much pain as the torture it was curing.   
  
Demar, growing bored with Obi-Wan due to the boy's lack of response to the few needles the pirate had torn from their place in the youth's skin, the man left the remainder to be removed by the guard on duty. Obi-Wan welcomed the change of torturers for, in comparison to Demar, the guard was mercifully quick about his extraction of the pins.  
  
The needles, though an agonizing form of torture did not cause extensive damage, nor did they prove to be life threatening. Most had only latched themselves under a few layers of skin, not deep enough to tear any major blood vessels. The amount of blood was not, all things considered, very great and the youth's clotting factor was quick to kick in, even further reducing the blood loss.   
  
However, despite the quickly ebbing blood flow, Demar returned, much to his pleasure, to a padawan dotted with painful sores and sticky with his own gore.   
  
The pirate had brought with him a small marble basin filled with random scraps of organic material, a thin metal rod, and a small device resembling a miniature blaster, used to light fires. He handed the objects to the guard with the words, "Start with the back."  
  
As the guard took his place behind Obi-Wan, methodically arranging the items bestowed upon him, Demar turned his attention to the boy still chained in the center of the chamber. "Of all the beings I have tortured, and the number is quite high, I must say that I get the most pleasure out of breaking a Jedi. You really are a strong-willed bunch. Stupid, but strong-willed. There are times when I wonder what I would have become had I been kidnaped and hauled off to the prison you call a Temple." He moved closer to Obi-Wan, gently cupping the boy's cheek as a wistful look clouded his eyes, "I was discovered, you know. They approached my mother with promises of a better life for me. She refused, for she was not a stupid woman. She knew the type of hell they were trying to drag me into and, not wanting to subject her only son to such a life, she refused but they didn't listen," his eyes flashed angrily as he pulled the youth's chin upwards, forcing their gazes to meet, "They took me against her wishes. And when she protested, they killed her. Your kind is responsible for my mother's death." The last words, laced with hatred, were barely voiced above a whisper, but the feeling projected was deafening.   
  
A cruel laugh escaped his lips as Demar roughly released Obi-Wan, "But the Force did not allow those atrocities to go unpunished. Oh no, the Jedi bastards who destroyed my original family were ironically destroyed by my present one," A disturbing look of glee settled upon his face as insane laughter swallowed his words, making Obi-Wan strain to decipher them, "Their ship was hijacked by a group of marauders and they were beaten, tortured and slowly killed. In the end, they begged for death. My saviors took me in as one of their own, protected me and warned me of the lies of the galaxy...I fell asleep listening to the tale of my kidnappers' demise."   
  
Obi-Wan pitied the man standing before him, not understanding how someone could base his entire hatred on the words of untrustworthy beings. As a Jedi, he had always been taught to listen to others, but seek his own reasons and solutions and so he could not fully grasp the reasoning behind following something so blindly. The words he spoke to his captor were not said in defiance, but rather with genuine curiosity, "If you only know the version of your abduction as told by a band of creatures who cheat and steal for their livelihood, how can you feel so certain that what you believe is fact?"  
  
Demar did not voice a reply, but instead he yanked boy's arms down, the shackles tearing at the raw skin of the wrist. As the action was unexpected, Obi-Wan did not have time to steel himself completely against the pain and loosed a small whimper. Satisfied with the reaction, Demar released the youth's arms and nodded to the guard.   
  
During Demar's rant, Obi-Wan could feel the efforts of the man sitting behind him. The soft warmth of a small fire would have been a welcome comfort from the damp chill which seemed to permeate all his bones if not for worry of what purpose the flame would serve.   
  
Unconsciously tensing in anticipation, Obi-Wan was only somewhat prepared for the white-hot pain which radiated from his right shoulder moments after Demar's silent communication with his sentry. The pain relented suddenly, only to intensify on another point on his skin.   
  
"Let it never be said that Lord Demar neglects his guest's ailments. We must cauterize those wounds. We wouldn't want them to get infected, now would we?"   
  
  
  
  
Good? Bad? Just plain weird? Be a good lil Jedi and review! Tell me what you think=) I crave imput! 


	9. Not the way it should have been...

Well, I think this is the second to last chapter for this fic...sequel will be soon, I promise=) I'm going to get so many flames about this chapter...hehehe....I've been waiting forever to do this! This chapter was like one of this first that was mapped out in my mind...sadistic? Yes...Enjoy!  
  
  
I just wanted to thank everyone that has R/R (especially those who reviewed) you guyz have been so great during this thing! You have no idea how much the made me feel all happy and um, stuff lol. I luv you all!!!  
  
Thanx: ~Becky~, Little Dove, Freakizimi, Luthien Tinuviel, chaz, Ginger Ninja, Ivy, Freakizimi (again=), skittles, Max425  
  
  
*****  
  
The clan of metal upon metal resounded through the sparse chambers of the spacecraft as Mace docked it with another as smoothly as his limited talents allowed.   
  
"No, they didn't hear that," sarcasm dripping from Qui-Gon's voice as he quickly checked the air pressure gauge to assure himself that they were indeed linked with the other vessel.   
  
"Well, as you were otherwise occupied, it was either my attempt at positioning her or none at all," Mace said as he rose from the his seat at the control panel and followed the other Jedi down the narrow hallway towards the ship's entrance hatch.   
  
Quickening his stride, Mace was soon next to Qui-Gon, matching his gait step-by-step, "That's what happens when you let someone else do something you should because you're too preoccupied with staring at data...It wasn't going to go away, you know."  
  
Qui-Gon cast a sharp sidelong glance, but said nothing.  
  
"However, I am not *that* inept at piloting. I don't think they're aware that we're here," Mace stated as he palmed open the hatch, revealing five pirates clad in black tunics and pants, utility belts clipped around their wastes, holsters empty as their occupants were all firmly gripped in a hand of each respective marauder.   
  
Before the hatch had even finished unveiling the pirates, each Jedi had ignited his lightsaber and was poised, ready to defend themselves.  
  
"They seem acutely aware of our presence, wouldn't you say?" Qui-Gon growled as he began deflecting the bombardment of blaster fire.   
  
Slowly, the Jedi pressed their way through the entrance into a brightly lit corridor. With each step forward, the pirates appeared to take two steps back. Quickly making use of their advantage, the two began to take down their opponents with their own blaster shots.   
  
One down.   
  
The remaining pirates turned left at a crossroad, backing their way down a more dimly lit hallway.  
  
Two down.  
  
Again, the group backs their way down a different path, leading the Jedi farther into the labyrinth of passageways housed in the ship.  
  
Three down.  
  
There is no fear radiating off the remaining two, but rather acceptance.  
  
Four down.  
  
Caught in the moment of battle, Qui-Gon hastily follows the remaining man into a near absolutely dark room, the only illumination being his lightsaber and the rapid fire of the single blaster.   
  
Mace hesitated in the doorway as he took a moment to survey the room which they had forced the lone pirate to retreat to...the room which they had been baited into entering...  
  
Five down.  
  
Reaching out to the Force, Mace found there to be a waver in it-a waring...   
  
"Qui," Mace took a step towards his friend and, as he moved from the entrance, the door quickly slid shut, sealing them both inside.   
  
The closing of the door brought Qui-Gon out of his post-battle haze and threw him entirely back into reality.   
  
"Damn it," he muttered and in three long strides was next to Mace, both men searching the wall for a key pad to open the door, using their 'sabers as a light source.   
  
When none was found, Mace stepped over to the now blocked doorway and pressed the purple blade of his lightsaber against the offending metal, letting the sword crack and spark angrily against it for a few moments. Pulling back, Mace stared in amazement at the area where his 'saber had contacted with the metal.   
  
His reaction was warranted for, save an extremely light heat imprint, the door looked as if had never been touched.   
  
Qui-Gon had watched his comrade's failed attempt to burn through and tried it for himself only to meet with the same result.   
  
Qui-Gon's slightly more frantic second attempt was interrupted by the sudden illumination of the room and the previously unfelt presence of another.  
  
Both Jedi hastily turned to the center of the room, each cursing himself for his lack of focus before giving his full attention to the man standing before them.   
  
The man strode slowly towards them, heals clicking on the metal floor, black cape billowing behind him. He stopped a few feet in front of them, sizing them up.  
  
As the man made no hostile motions, the two Jedi lowered their lightsabers from the high ready position they had been in since the lights were turned on, but neither deactivated it.   
  
The man, with pupil-less eyes, smiled almost amicably as he casually introduced himself, "Greetings, I am Demar."  
  
  
*****  
  
  
Obi-Wan's body was limp, held up only by the chains suspending his arms. The restraints which had once cause him so much pain were now a barley discernable addition to the collective agony he was suffering.   
  
Though the "healing" process had long since ended, Obi-Wan still felt, with great intensity, the residual pain of the cauterizing. His back seemed as if it had been drenched in fuel, then lit aflame and left to burn for hours on end.   
  
It wasn't far from the truth.   
  
Obi-Wan whimpered as a small wave a pain flowed through him. He had long since given up repressing his body's vocal protestations to the torture. The energy needed to maintain the stoic mask far exceeded his severely depleted reserves. He was willing to allow his captors the satisfaction of hearing him scream as long as he didn't tell them what they wanted to know. He would die before they succeeded in breaking him.   
  
All throughout the torture Demar had questioned him. The pirate had tried everything possible to get the information he sought, but to no avail. Obi-Wan had never been one to give in easily...Demar was just beginning to realize this.  
  
The padawan had no clue how long it had been since Demar had last been in the chamber. Obi-Wan had been alone for some time now, ever since Demar had become so annoyed with the boy's verbal silence that he had took the bowl of glowing embers from the guard who was finishing the cauterization on one of Obi-Wan's arms and threw them on the youth's still hot back. The howl that reverberated in the small room seemed to do little to appease the pirate as he viciously slapped Obi-Wan across his face-perhaps the only uninjured part of his body-barked an order at the guard to follow and stormed out of the chamber, screaming promises of still more horrible agony to come.   
  
He wasn't alone for much longer. Though he knew that the door had just opened, Obi-Wan had no desire to pick his head up from its position slumped against his suspended arm. He didn't flinch as he felt the prick of a needle and the cool sensation of the injection that followed. He just didn't care.  
  
The one who had injected him left immediately and Obi-Wan was alone with his pain again, only this time with the addition of the feel of ice pulsing through his veins. The cold spread quickly, leaving the boy shaking, his vision hazy and mind unable to focus.   
  
The sound of the door opening again alerted the apprentice to the entrance of Demar. The boy did not need the Force to know when that man entered...the unstable energy which accompanied him was so thick that one would have to be dead not to feel it. And Obi-Wan was not dead...yet.  
  
Demar studied the prisoner who had yet to acknowledge his presence. The torture had done a marvelous number on his body, yet the padawan refused to betray his Jedi code, refused to save himself. Stupid child.   
  
Demar turned back to the entrance, looking to one of the guards who stood outside the chamber, waiting and nodded in reference to the boy, "Has he received the injection?"  
  
"Yes, my Lord."  
  
"Excellent. Bring it in."  
  
Two guards dragged something into the chamber, dropping it onto the hard floor as soon as they was entirely inside. The thing moved slightly, squirming for a moment before it stilled...it was a man.   
  
Soon a soft hum echoed off the walls and a small bit of light was cast, giving the few people and items in the room a surreal glow.   
  
Demar walked over to Obi-Wan and pulled his chin up, knowing the boy was still conscious. He roughly turned it towards the rumpled form on the floor as on of the guards stood above the man, a blue bladed lightsaber clutched in his hands, raised high above his head.   
  
Demar leaned down, mouth next to Obi-Wan's ear, and whispered, "We found this attached to you when we brought you in...thought you'd like to see it, know that it wasn't destroyed."   
  
The other guard bent down, grabbed a handful of the man's hair and yanked the still form's head off the cold floor. Obi-Wan barely stifled an anguished cry.  
  
Demar was at his ear again, speaking so that only the padawan could hear him, "See what happens when you don't abide by your elders?"  
  
With a scream that sounded more animal than human, Obi-Wan witnessed his master cut down by his own weapon.  
  
  
Dun dun dun...hehehehe...I like being evil...perhaps I am Darth Maul in disguise...As always, be good lil Jedi and review (even though I'm not one=) Because if you don't, I might just have to leave you there...lol=) 


	10. Never felt him go...

Okay, so I lied. There will be one more chapter=)  
  
I am sooooo unbelievably sorry about the lateness of the chapter, but, after an ice storm in early Feb., my laptop, having died when the power went out because the battery decided to stop holding a charge say a year ago, when the power came back on, I was crushed to discover that many of my programs, including my w.p., internet (both cable and modem), would simply not work! No matter how many times I smacked it, it refused to respond lol. So, now that I am armed with a brand spanking new laptop with Microsoft Word working ( I was using Word perfect on my other, then pasting it onto notepad and saving there, but because Notepad refused to italicize anything, I had to use the ** to indicate emphasis) I can now use the italicize command. I am happy=)  
  
Reference to "Rime of the Ancient Mariner" in the first paragraph.  
  
Thank you to: Obi the Kid, Freakizimi, Ginger Ninja, sliverrain, silverrain (on caffine=), BlueElli, Little Dove, Steph, trigger, ~Becky~, Enigma Jade, Sentimental Star, Emma, BlazerAkila, and wicked+elve  
  
Everyone has been so unbelievably supportive, foremost of all my beta, MaraJade and Soda Baron, both of whose suggestions will be placed into effect as soon as I find the time (and ability) to transfer all my documents from my old computer to my new one.=)  
  
One side note: This chapter is a bit more graphic than the others…at least the first half is. Please remember that.  
  
  
  
Death and Life-In-Death had thrown dice for the young Jedi and his master and it appeared that Death had made fast the claim to his trophy, leaving Life-In-Death to work her torture on the one who remained.  
  
Time had run into one insufferable moment, suspending indefinitely what was and creating an effective barrier to all that held any potential of relieving Obi-Wan of any amount of torment he was suffering.  
  
Moments after his own weapon cut down the one for whom Obi-Wan would have willingly endured lifetimes of torture—the knowledge that it was not by his hand did little to comfort the boy—before the residual echo of his anguished cry had ceased to bounce from wall to wall, the padawan tore his gaze from the quickly spreading pool of blood and fixed it upon the first area of the wall at which, when looking from his chained position, he was unable to catch even the merest glimpse of the physical remnants of the nightmare he had just suffered through.  
  
Even with his eyes averted, Obi-Wan dry heaved at the combination of the pungent odor of the life blood which he knew was still spilling from his slain master and at the perpetual replaying of the evil he had witnessed seconds before. The guard who had so crudely wielded the lightsaber also deemed the instant cauterization much too bloodless for his tastes and took it upon himself to rectify this problem. Instead of making a swift, clean, one-time cut, the man deactivated the 'saber about three-quarters of the way and, drawing out a small, dull, generic dagger, hacked through the remaining tissue.  
  
Demar, of course, had been delighted by his soldier's initiate and, grinning madly, offered a twisted form of praise, insisting that the guard—whose weak protests that he had done nothing that warranted such kind words were belied by the poorly concealed mirror of his superior's grin—had a natural talent for torture and, being only seventeen, had ample time to go very far.  
  
The padawan's momentary respite from his visual anguish was short lived. Demar had not gone to the trouble of capturing and killing this man for Obi- Wan to remain unbroken because he had spared himself the sight of the blood trenched head and body, each now a separate entity of the other.  
  
Following his captive's anguished stare, in one fluid motion Demar bent down, grabbed the decapitated head, and strolled over to the section of the cell on which the padawan's eyes had desperately fixed themselves. He knelt, disregarding the grime clinging to the hard floor, and stood the head up in a manner most similar to that of a person having just acquired a display piece and trying to discover the best possible way to show it off. He turned it left, and then right, tilted it up, and played with the style of the hair a seemingly endless amount of times before settling on a final position. The head leaned against the wall, hair matted and slick-looking, the glassy eyes unfocused but never-the-less were open and rested on the boy who, either by the Force or his own unrelenting horror and disbelief, could not turn away. Perhaps the worst aspect this event, the more terrible than being force to witness his master's demise, was the fact that Obi-Wan had no closure. The Force suppression collar prevented him that reprieve, denied him the sensation of his master's passing. To him, Qui- Gon was still alive.  
  
Demar observed the boy as he slowly release his slight hold on him and, satisfied that the boy's gloriously unshielded pain would keep him in that position for hours, walked silently behind the boy, taking no chances at pulling the padawan out of his self-induced trance, and towards the door, paying no mind to the pools of blood he treaded through.  
  
As he ascended the metal stairs, leaving a slick marker on every stair, though each decidedly fainter than the last, Demar palmed open the door, threw a half-glance back at the two who stood rigid next to the body, and casually spoke, but continued into the hallway, "Do something with that, would you?"  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Having made his way through the narrow, winding passages of the ship, Demar stopped abruptly, having reached his destination. A half suppressed grin played on his lips as he palmed the latch and strode into the room, pleased to note the sudden silence of Force whispers in his head, indicating that his orders for the activation of the Force inhibiting rods, which actually lined every chamber and hallway of the vessel, but specifically the ones embedded in the walls of this chamber had been followed.  
  
Depressing a button on a small, nearly undetectable black box, which was perfectly camouflaged against the man's entirely black ensemble, Demar closed his eyes and breathed an almost euphoric sigh as the Force rushed back, flowing through him, caressing him. When the initial moment of indescribable pleasure passed, Demar opened his eyes and calmly met the glare of the Jedi with whom he was nose to nose.  
  
A mocking smirk twisted his lips as Demar spoke, "Did you enjoy the entertainment?"  
  
A brief flash of fury spiked in Mace's eyes before he buried it under the infamous Jedi stoic image and responded with only the merest traces of both enragement and pity tainting his predominantly placid voice, "You are quite possibly the sickest man I have ever had the misfortune of encountering. It's you and your kind who prove that, unfortunately, there will always be a need for the Jedi."  
  
Demar's smirk morphed into a flat out grin as he answered, delight creeping into his words, "Then it was a success? Excellent."  
  
Shifting his gaze past the one who stood within arms length to a figure standing rigidly as it stared up at the computerized image of the battered child whose eyes had not shifted from the horrifying display they had been cemented to before his captor left, Demar spoke a bit louder, but with the same quality of glee in his question, "And you, Master Jedi? What is your opinion of my amusement?"  
  
Qui-Gon turned slowly; taking extra time to assure that his anger was in check before he met the gaze of the man whom he had witnessed nearly, he prayed not totally, destroy his padawan. Despite his lifetime of teachings on emotional control, Qui-Gon could not keep the anger from shaking his voice, "What did you do to him?"  
  
"Oh, so very many things, but I'll assume that you're referring specifically to the little performance you just saw. It's quite ingenious really. You see, that man," Demar nodded to the image of the severed head of a red skinned Marchaka male with cropped green hair which, at the moment, was the center of Obi-Wan's attention, "he's you."  
  
Pausing in an effort to gauge the light-skinned master's reaction, Demar frowned when none was forthcoming, but continued his explanation.  
  
"You see, I have developed a drug, hallucinogen to be specific, which, with the aid of a slight Force suggestion, has the ability to make anyone see anything. Anything that I desire, of course. Until now, I had been using it solely as a pleasure device verses a torture method. A kind of reward for my subordinates' loyal, if you will. And, though it goes without saying, a form of ecstasy for myself." He paused a moment, apparently remembering one of his experiences with the drug for an irrational grin couple with a soft, guttural laugh escaped before Demar regained his composure.  
  
Refocusing his eyes on Qui-Gon, Demar went on. "I have to say, the raw agony which blanketed the room, assuring me that the drug had fulfilled its purpose, was possibly most magnificent feeling that I have ever experienced."  
  
A pensive mask replaced the grin as Demar took a step closer to Mace who had remained silent during this entire revelation, a step closer to Qui- Gon. "Tell me, Qui-Gon, how did it feel to watch your student suffer like that? To be unable to comfort, to soothe him as his mind was shredded by the sight of the brutal butchery of the one to whom he was closest. Of the one he thought of as his father?"  
  
The brief mixture of surprise, fury, and disgust graced Qui-Gon's face, a reaction which thoroughly amused Demar. Laughing at Qui-Gon's naiveté, Demar force words out between gasps, "You didn't realize that? And yet, you consider him your son? The feeling's there, buried deep under all your excuses and denial. Even non-Force sensitive would be able to detect it, it's so obvious."  
  
Surprise gripped Qui-Gon again, this time confined to his eyes as he realized that, yes, he did consider Obi-Wan to be his son. He always had.  
  
As Demar continued to amuse himself with Qui-Gon's revelation, Mace seized the opportunity to make a grab for his lightsaber which, oddly enough, had not been taken from him. His movement was thwarted, however, his hand frozen just as his fingertips brushed the cold metal of his 'saber.  
  
Demar's black eyes hardened as he turned his attention to the Jedi directly in front of him. His voice soft and icy, as he spoke barely above a whisper, "Tut, tut. You didn't really think that this would be that easy now, did you?"  
  
  
  
One more chapter, one more major twist coming soon…Hopefully. I feel like crap, but that, in this respect, will probably be a good thing. When I'm sick I get bored more easily and have the time to deal with the boredom in a way that I want to. So, as soon as I stop giving off enough heat to warm a small house, I'll finish the last chapter. As always, be good little Jedi and review…You know I love them! 


	11. The end...I think not

Hey everyone~  
  
I stopped dying, so you get a chapter=) Last chapter…sigh…but there will be a sequel, hope that's a happy thought=)Thanx to all who took the time to read this, even if they didn't review, hope you enjoyed!And an even BIGGER thanx to all who took the time to review, you all are the best! ::hugs::  
  
Thanx specifically go to: Freakizimi(that part was actually inspired by Zorro…the whole head in a wine jar bit=), Sentimental Star, Ginger Ninja, siri, wicked+elve, Serese, stormy1325, KenobisGirl, Loryn Wilde(how do you make lemon soup?=), Trekkieforever(you were right in feeling sorry for all the Jedi=), BlazerAkila, and Nike  
  
Now, on with the show…  
  
  
  
Rage, while unbecoming of a Jedi, is a natural human emotion. Emotions can be denied, they can be suppressed, they can be an ally, they can be an enemy, they can be many things, but they can not be eradicated. No matter how skilled one is at hiding them or belying them, the raw emotions always exist, just under the surface. And even the most skilled falter…  
  
"Did you really think that I would make it easy for you to just cut me down?"  
  
Demar smiled as he met Mace's gaze, his eyes mocking the Jedi, laughing at the role reversal. "Now, you wanted to play with this?" Demar gestured to the weapon which was so tantalizingly within Mace's reach, yet the power to grab it was beyond him. "Tell me, in all of your Jedi teachings, all of your archaic dogma, were there ever any lessons on sharing?"  
  
With a speed that could no being could achieve unaided, Demar snatched the lightsaber from its rightful place, clipped onto the strong, but well worn brown material of the utility belt which hung low upon the Jedi's hips, and began to examine it, to feel it's grooves and crevices through the thin material of his skin-tight black leather gloves.  
  
"You know, I always wanted one of this when I was a kid," Demar began, his attention fully devoted to the scrutiny of the 'saber. "I didn't care, though I really should have, that it was a Jedi's weapon. Or maybe I did. All I know is that I wanted one. But, even if my family would have allowed it, it would have never been, for Jedi are notorious for hoarding information." Demar reluctantly tore his eyes away from the weapon, allowing his fingers to continue to caress it as his gaze went back and forth between Jedi, "No one knew how to build one, so I never had one."  
  
Demar took a step past Mace, placing himself directly in front of Qui-Gon, but a separated by a relatively safe distance. "But, I have made up for my childhood lacking recently." Tossing Mace's 'saber carelessly to the side, Demar pulled another metal cylinder from the folds of his tunics. He stepped back, left foot in front, body turned away from the Jedi, knees bent, and muscles tense. Shrugging off his heavy cape, Demar tossed that to the side and maintained his stance as he ignited the laser sword, the blue glow casting a supernatural shadow about him, giving his eyes a surreal blue sparkle. "You see, my dear Qui-Gon, I have been practicing."  
  
Silently accepting the challenge, Qui-Gon slowly removed his robe, taking the time to attempt to find his center, and folded it before setting it in an out of the way corner. Qui-Gon then unclipped his 'saber from his belt and, seeing no negative response from Demar, rather an approving grin, fell into a familiar battle stance and ignited the emerald blade.  
  
Wordlessly, Demar charged the Jedi, a weak attempt that a mere initiate could have countered. Qui-Gon easily sidestepped the blow, allowing the azure blade to simply slide off his. Demar tried again, this time he brought the 'saber up above his head, both hands on the hilt, and chopped downward, only to be met by the green which easily flung the advancing blade backwards, throwing it's wielder back up against a cold metal wall.  
  
Demar, with a grunt, came back, blade slicing the air and meeting, again, with only his opponent's blade. Another attempt, another block. Demar thrusted and slashed, feigned and lunged, every time meeting with the emerald beam of energy, every time growing more and more annoyed  
  
A quick slash at the Jedi's feet forced a Force aided twisting somersault over the pirate very effectively backing Qui-Gon into a corner. Demar stepped up his attacks, making furious, formless chops, as if he had allowed the 'saber full control of all the actions his body exacted. The sloppily made advances did nothing more than open the pirate up to countless opportunities for counterattacks, but none came. Demar, not being a seasoned swordsman, but having enough knowledge of the techniques to realized his errors should have caused his death many times over, grew furious at the Jedi's seemingly halfhearted effort.  
  
Without relenting on his clumsy, ineffective attacks, Demar growled out through clenched teeth, "Fight me! Why won't you FIGHT me?"  
  
The Jedi blocked another attempt and slid his lightsaber on top of the other, effectively holding it in place before looked at Demar's face. Qui- Gon, his face the epitome of calm, but his eyes alight with an all consuming fury, responded, his voice tight, "I will not fight you, because, if I start, I won't be able to stop."  
  
Demar just stared at Qui-Gon for a moment—a moment which was interrupted by the soft hum of another lightsaber added to the mix. Demar involuntarily flinched as he registered the sudden sensation of burning heat along the side of his throat.  
  
"Demar, you really do need to learn how to do two things at once…either that or switch to the use of chains and shackles for all your captives. Now, you're going to deactivate the 'saber," Mace held his violet blade steady as Demar did as he was told, "And give it to Qui-Gon—hilt first."  
  
Qui-Gon, who had not yet deactivated his weapon and was now holding next to Mace's at Demar's throat, reached out and snatched the metal cylinder away from the pirate.  
  
"Qui, would you mind holding your position for a moment?" Mace reached into his utility belt and brought out a small hypospray, pressed it to the back of Demar's neck, and depressed the small button. No sooner had the drug entered his bloodstream did Demar collapse in a rumpled heap upon the floor.  
  
Qui-Gon rolled the unconscious man onto his back and began searching him as he spoke to Mace, "How long will he be out for?"  
  
"At least a few hours…When Ploo was accidentally injected, he was out for a few days..."  
  
Qui kept searching Demar's utility belt as he distractedly answered, "You mean the time you *accidentally* left the hypospray injecting side up on his Counsel seat?"  
  
"Yes, that was the time."  
  
With a grunt of triumph, Qui-Gon yanked a small black box off of the unconscious man, attached it to his belt and pushed the small button on it. Immediately, he felt the exhilarating rush of the Force engulfing him, washing over him, comforting him, guiding him.  
  
Qui-Gon rose and walked quickly over to door and, using his regained Force abilities, tore it from place with one smooth, outward hand motion. Unconsciously consulting the Force as he entered the hallway, Qui-Gon quickly began his near run to get to his padawan. Mace had to sprint to keep up, having no time to relish the glorious return of the Force the moment he stepped from the room where Demar's unconscious body laid.  
  
Winding his way through the corridors, never once pausing in uncertainty, Qui-Gon was soon standing outside the room his padawan had suffered—and was still suffering—in. There was no doubt of this, for Obi-Wan's essence clung to the area and his Force signature, though decidedly muted, came through to Qui-Gon like a long-forgotten childhood friend. The Jedi master took a deep breath and palmed open the unlocked door, steeling himself against the horrendous stench which rolled out of the room in disgusting waves, he entered.  
  
Hurrying over to the boy whose head was slumped against one arm, but whose eyes were still fixed upon the head sitting against the wall, Qui-Gon took a quick inventory of Obi-Wan's injuries and was extremely glad that the vidscreen in the other room did not do justice to the wounds his padawan suffered or there would be a dead pirate on the floor verses an unconscious one.  
  
"Obi-Wan, wake up. We've got to go." Qui-Gon's voice was hushed yet urgent. They had to get out; not knowing if your captors are aware of your every move yet are merely biding their time is not a comforting thought.  
  
Obi-Wan moaned as he picked his head up only enough to see who was speaking to him. When he saw his master's face, he gave a reaction which was not unexpected.  
  
"Master? No, NO, it can't be! Demar! Stop! STOP! Get away from me! GET AWAY! DEMAR!" With each word, Obi-Wan grew more and more agitated and his voice grew to an impressive volume for one who had not made use of the instrument for some time.  
  
Qui-Gon did not have the time to comfort the boy, so, though it broke his heart to do so, he put a gentle hand to his padawan's temple and uttered a single word, "Sleep."  
  
First, Qui-Gon, using his lightsaber extremely carefully, cut through the Force inhibiting collar, which fell to the floor with a snap and sizzle. Then, using a burst of Force energy, Qui-Gon broke the rusted chains on his padawan's legs and then the left arm, then the right, catching the unconscious boy before he had even begun his fall. Qui-Gon, being extremely mindful of the torn flesh, now somewhat glad that his apprentice was not aware of the immense pain the master's careful cradling would have caused.  
  
Greatly relieved by Mace's presence outside the door, though he had honestly forgotten his comrade was there, Qui-Gon started down the hall, his fellow master at his side, ready to protect the master/padawan pair should any problems arise. Surprisingly, his protection was not needed, for the hurried walk back to the entrance to their ship was extremely uneventful.  
  
Mace palmed open the hatch to the ship and entered first, and both with the Force and his senses, he scanned the ship. Finding no threat, he called for Qui-Gon to enter.  
  
Qui-Gon wasted no time in getting his battered padawan onto a cot and examining his injuries more thoroughly. He then began to tend to the open wounds on Obi-Wan's wrists and ankles, daubing each with stinging bacta, causing Obi-Wan to cry out in his sleep and come a step closer to the conscious. Not wanting Obi-Wan to suffer unduly, Qui-Gon bent down, brushed a light kiss over Obi's sweat-matted hair and, whispering softly said, "Shhhh, my Obi, I am here. Sleep."  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Two figures watched the Jedi's escape on dozens of vidscreens, from dozens of angles.  
  
"My Lord, if you would only allow me to turn on the Force inhibitors or at least deatatch their vessel, they would not escape."  
  
"Young one, though I need not explain my reasons to you, I already have. Besides, the Force inhibitors would not work on the tall one…he has the protection of my box. We know the drug works, that's all we need."  
  
Turning away from the screens, Demar walked swiftly out the door, into a narrow hallway, and stopped at an entrance door at the very end of the corridor. Before palming open the lock, Demar turned to his companion and asked softly, "The injection has been given?"  
  
A curt nod from the other affirmed the question and Demar smiled.  
  
"Well, I guess that it's time to flex my acting skills then." With a final breath, Demar palmed open the door and stepped in, taking in all the aspects of the small, Force inhibited room, as if for the first time. When his eyes fell upon a figure chained in the middle of the floor, he loosed a small gasp and ran up to it.  
  
"Force! What have they done to you? It doesn't matter, it will all be over soon, I promise you."  
  
The figure glanced up and a pretty, feminine face was visible underneath a mop of matted brown hair. As her mind processed the words spoken, a smile twitched at her lips as she lifted her sightless eyes to he so-called savior and spoke a single word which embodied a hope long since thought dead.  
  
"Qui?"  
  
  
  
Can you guess who the person was? Lol, hope so! Anywayz, thanx to every1 for supporting me…it might be a little while before I get the sequel out, but, as I said before, it will be better writing, longer and will be posted in parts, once a night. Sound better? If you want to get a summery or sneak preview on a select part or just to tell me to hurry my butt along and write it, email me! Also, when I have a date that I'm gonna post it, I'll probably put up a note in the reviews of this fic, so if you wanna know that and don't have the time to email me, check there…And, now here comes the sad part, I can't believe that I won't say this for a such a while…be a good lil' Jedi and review, you know I love them! 


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